


The Truth About Your Heart

by Aviator39, Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parent Owen Strand, Divorce, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family is complicated, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Good Parent Jacqueline Carlyle, Good Parent Owen Strand, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Investigative Journalism, Journalism, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Photography, Politics, Protective Owen Strand, Protective TK Strand, Romance, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29215053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviator39/pseuds/Aviator39, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: When TK’s older sister Lydia shows up in Austin to do an article on the 126 and the “Modern Firehouse”, it should be one big, happy family reunion. But unlike TK, Lydia and Owen’s relationship is rocky at the best of times and downright hostile at the worst. That shouldn’t matter since she’s hopping back on a plane once her article is done, right? But Lydia likes being around her little brother and having him back in her life even if it means forcing civility with her father, and it isn’t long before the 126 pick-up on what’s going on. Can they help bring the Strand family back together or are some rifts simply too deep to mend?
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Firehouse 126 Crew & Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star), Firehouse 126 Crew & Lydia Carlyle-Strand, Grace Ryder/Judd Ryder (9-1-1 Lone Star), Ian Carlyle/Jacqueline Carlyle, Jacqueline Carlyle/Owen Strand (Past), Marian Marwani/Original Female Character (OFC), Marjan Marwani/Lydia Carlyle-Strand (OFC), Owen Strand & TK Strand, TK Strand & Lydia Carlyle-Strand
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	The Truth About Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a long time in the works, but the first chapter is finally done! Thank you so so much to Pigeonsplotinsecrecy for being my co-author on this, and for listening to my many rantings about ideas for this story! <3 
> 
> Title is from this poem: 
> 
> The Truth About Your Heart by Nikita Gill
> 
> Your heart will fix itself.  
> It’s your mind you need to worry about.  
> Your mind where you locked the memories,  
> your mind where you have kept pieces of the ones that hurt you,  
> that still cut through you like shards of glass.  
> Your mind will keep you up at night, make you cry,  
> destroy you over and over again.  
> You need to convince your mind that it has to let go…  
> because your heart already knows how to heal.

The 126 was probably the swankiest fire station that Lydia Strand had ever seen. With its big, red sign, fresh paint, and modern facelift, the 126 didn’t look like a firehouse at all, but considering she was writing a piece on ‘The Modern Firehouse’, she knew she was in the right place, even if she was not all used to the way the Texas sun heated her skin with a ferocity she never experienced in New York. With practiced ease, she moved around the firehouse, trying to capture pictures of the station’s exterior and bracing herself to go inside, take some more pictures, and interview the inhabitants. Initially trained as an architect, appreciating the firehouse’s design elements was easy, but getting to know the people would be eons more difficult. She took a breath, crouching down to get a better angle. 

Angles were important in photography, not just to capture the best lighting but also to find the right perspective. She captured a myriad of pictures that would emphasize the various features of the firehouse. She wanted to make sure she had lots of options to choose from so that when she went back to write her article, she could match the pictures to what she wanted to express. 

She was so focused on getting the right shots that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her or feel the hand on her arm until she was being pulled to her feet. “Hey, what are ya doing here?” A man yelled into her ear, looking like just the kind of guy she expected to see in Texas. Though, from what she’d seen, Austin seemed a lot more offbeat than the rest of The Lone Star State. Fewer cowboys and more free spirits, but it was still Texas.

Lydia ripped her arm away. As a woman who’d worked with many difficult male executives and bosses in her life, she knew men like this, the ones who thought they could get away with treating women as lesser. “Get your hands off me.” She warned, but she knew that there wasn’t much she could do if she had to fight this giant guy. 

“Maybe try explain’ why you’re loitering around here, then.” The man countered, looking irritated that he had to deal with this situation.

Lydia pushed a strand of bright red hair from her face. She’d just dyed it, and now the coloring was probably getting ruined by the sun, just like her mood. She had a sudden yearning for the understandable chaos of New York. Austin wasn’t a small town or even a small city, but to Lydia, anything short of New York or LA felt underwhelming. “It’s none of your business why I’m here,” she told the man stubbornly.

“Wait until the Captain hears about this.” The man grumbled, pulling Lydia towards the door.

“Stop touching me, pendejo!” She spat at him again, but she needed to get inside of the firehouse, anyway, so she might as well accept an escort inside, even if a part of her desperately wanted to avoid this part. He guided her through the firehouse and into the Captain’s office, showing her inside and told her that she could wait there until the Captain arrived to deal with her. “Don’t do anything crazy. I’ll be watching through the glass.” He told her like she was a fish in a bowl, and before she could protest, the door slammed behind him, the lock clicking into place loud in the relative silence. 

Lydia watched as he strode away, a smug smirk on his lips and she kicked the door. “Seriously? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” She shouted through the glass as she whipped around to stare down at the apparatus floor through the wall of windows, unknowingly hitting the intercom button with her messenger bag as she chucked it on the desk. “¡Pinche idiota!”

She continued to swear, blending languages as she watched other firefighters arrive, the shifts changing smoothly until only her father and TK had yet to arrive. Lydia briefly wondered which one of them had made them late by taking too long looking in the mirror, and she chuckled despite her aggravation. 

Her mirth faded as a black GMC pick-up rolled past the firehouse doors before parking somewhere off to the side, followed by her father and TK walking onto the apparatus floor. She watched as the burly Texan that had accosted her spoke to her father, no doubt telling him that ‘he’d caught some reporter nosing around where she shouldn’t have’ and rolled her eyes, banging hard on the glass. 

TK looked up at the noise and snorted before busting out into laughter at the sight of his sister with her red hair and flushed cheeks cursing up a storm over the intercom. “Stop fucking laughing, TK.” She ground out, whiskey brown eyes flashing as she glared down at her little brother. “¡Oye, cabron! Open the door before I decide to file a First Amendment complaint, pendejo.” He shook his head, still smirking as he accepted the key from his dad and climbing the stairs to his office. “It’s not funny, TK!” 

“It kinda is.” He retorted, snorting so hard at her outraged expression that he dropped the key, barely controlling his giggling as he knelt to pick it up. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry!” TK laughed as Lydia kicked the door again, no doubt leaving a dent in the new wood. “Alright, alright, easy tiger.”

Lydia met his gaze as the door opened, glaring daggers despite the amused expression on her little brother’s face. “You’re so juvenile. I swear to God.” She muttered, stuffing her camera into her bag, lips twitching out of their stern expression the longer TK shook with poorly suppressed laughter. “Alright, let it out before you hurt yourself.” 

“I’m sorry!” TK guffawed as he doubled over, clutching at his belly, breathless laughter leaving his lips. “But you should’ve seen your expression, Lyds.”

She rolled her eyes fondly, allowing TK to pull her into a hug once he’d caught his breath, feigning exasperation as she sighed dramatically. “Forget that,” Lydia said and held him at arm’s length, scanning him appraisingly. “Why the fuck are you wearing a hoodie, you weirdo? It’s like a million degrees.”

TK chuckled, slinging an arm over her shoulders as they made their way down the stairs and over to the others, not missing the way his sister and father avoided looking at each other. “Guys...this is my sister, Lydia. Lyds, this is everyone.”

“Hello, everyone.” Lydia laughed lightly and accepted handshakes from the team, squeezing a little harder than necessary with the burly Texan before hastily retracting her hand as she came around to her father. “Captain Strand…” She bit out stiffly, the humor fading from her eyes so rapidly it nearly gave the others whiplash as she forced a smile. “Congratulations on your appointment.”

“Congratulations on your...well…everything,” Owen replied with the proud but distant smile that always felt condescending to Lydia. “You’ve got quite a list of accolades.” A spike of fresh anger coursed through her, but it wasn’t the right time to list all the grievances she had against her father. She’d save those for when she was alone and ranting into her diary or when she was back home and talking to her new therapist, who she’d only seen for one session and was still skeptical about.

“Nothing like you guys do. Architecture doesn’t save lives.” Lydia couldn’t help the sarcastic tone that crept into her voice. It didn’t matter what she accomplished; she’d never be a hero like her father. His accomplishments would always come before hers, and she’d learned that long ago when Owen had not just missed but had completely forgotten about her first soccer game of the season when she was eleven. She’d forgiven Owen for missing events before that. He’d missed so many just after 9/11, and she’d given him a generous grace period, but that missed soccer game still gave her a bitter pang when she thought too hard about it, mostly because it reminded her of everything else that was going wrong in her family around then, all the worries Owen had neglected or outrightly chosen to ignore. 

“You don’t want to design buildings that fall down, no matter how pretty,” TK stepped between Lydia and Owen. “We’ve gone into poorly designed buildings, and it’s a nightmare. Architects do pretty important work.” Lydia appreciated TK’s attempt at defusing the friction between them and took a breath. TK had always been a soft spot for Lydia, as little brothers often were, but while TK could usually calm her down with one of his cheeky smiles, not even he could calm the tidal wave of negative feelings that she had about her father.

“Not really. I've been doing more academic work lately. Stuff for Mom’s magazine too.”

Mateo looked to TK with wide eyes. “Your mom owns a magazine?”

“She doesn’t  _ own _ it, but she’s the Editor-in-Chief at Scarlet.” Although saying she was merely the Editor-in-Chief seemed like an understatement for Jacqueline’s role at the magazine. Scarlet was like her third child, something she had nurtured for decades and continued to cherish. Scarlet would be nothing without Lydia’s mom.

“Scarlet magazine? You’re serious?” Marjan asked, looking impressed. “I read that magazine all the time.” Lydia herself had read it voraciously when she was young. Her mom would bring home the magazine and she’d eagerly flip through the glossy pages. Filling out the quizzes and convincing herself that she and Derek Chan from Art Class were meant to be. She had grown up with Scarlet, and it had been there for her when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. 

“That’s why I’m here, actually. I wanted to check out the swankiest fire station in Texas,” Of course, the firehouse she least wanted to visit was the one that best fit her piece. 

Judd sniggered. “You’re in the right place. Yer dad’s brought in all kinds of trendy junk. It took me four weeks just to learn the difference between all the milks.” Lydia almost laughed at that, but she was still annoyed at the cowboy’s earlier actions. She was an expert at holding a grudge.

Marjan rolled her eyes, face brightening with a smile that sent a small flutter of something through Lydia’s stomach. “Like you don’t love the espresso maker.”

Paul looked at Lydia suspiciously and she could tell that he was trying to figure out her true motives. “So you’re just here because our firehouse looks nice? I’m sure there are plenty in New York or L.A. that look just as nice.”

“My mom likes to meddle,” She didn’t elaborate on that point, trying to keep the conversation focused on her work, not her family drama. “Beyond that, the floor plan is wonderfully open in here, and the design elements are cohesive, which I’m arguing are crucial architectural features that create a healthier work environment for teams.”

The team nodded, all looking interested in the newcomer. Owen gave them a grin that Lydia could tell was forced. “Okay, come on crew. Enough chit chat. We have work to do.” The team lingered for a few seconds saying their goodbyes while TK refused to move. Owen turned to his daughter. “Lydia, why don’t we talk in my office?”

Lydia shot him an icy look, “Now’s not the time for a daddy-daughter chit chat, Owen. I have work to do,” and saying it, as petty as it was, gave her satisfaction because how many times had he thrown work in her face? How many times had he not given a damn about her life because he was too busy trying to save others?

“Lyds,” TK tried. 

She shook her head. “Leave it, TK.” He closed his mouth, knowing better than to try to talk over Lydia when she was like this.

Owen sighed. “What do you need?” Lydia was relieved that he wasn’t going to push for them to talk right away. 

“I just need to take some more pictures if you don’t mind, and then I’ll want to talk to some of the team once they're off the clock if that can be arranged.”

“TK can show you around so you can get your pictures, and I’ll ask the crew if they’d be willing to talk to you.”

Lydia didn’t thank him. “How very kind of you,” she said insincerely.

Owen cleared his throat, letting out a deep, raspy cough. The sound startled Lydia, but she wasn’t going to let herself get worked up over her dad probably having merely what amounted to a bad cold. “We go out for drinks and line dancing pretty often after work to blow off some steam, so maybe that would be a good time to talk to some of the responders who work here.”

Lydia cast a glance at TK. “And you’re good with that?” With TK’s addiction and recent relapse, she worried being in that environment would trigger him.

TK shrugged flippantly. “Nothing too dangerous about mineral water and line dancing.”

Owen bristled, and Lydia knew she had pushed a button that she hadn’t even intended to push. “We wouldn’t go there if TK wasn’t okay with it. I always make sure he’s safe.”

“Where were you when he--”

“I’m an adult,” TK cut in. “I can handle being around alcohol while still maintaining my sobriety. You don’t have to worry.” She couldn’t help but worry about her little brother with the way he was racking up near death experiences. 

“I know that,” Lydia said with a stubborn edge, “but it’s hard to know your limits if you can’t even see past the shadow of the person trying to save you.” She looked at her dad as she spoke with acerbity.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” TK asked, looking offended. He wasn’t the one she wanted to hurt, so she had the sense not to exacerbate the matter any more than she already had.

Lydia put a reassuring hand on her brother’s arm. She was only a few years older, but her age had given her a perspective of Owen that TK refused to see. In her childhood, she’d seen him from plenty of angles. She’d captured moments from before and after 9/11 in her mind. She’d tried to find the best in him. For a while. But some of the things he’d done, or not done, were inexcusable. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’m just getting carried away with old shit.”

“I never meant to hurt either of you,” Owen said, a guilty look on his face, but he still didn’t get it. He still refused to acknowledge that he’d made shitty choices. If she talked to him about it, he’d give her the same 9/11 guilt-trip he always did, and she didn’t want to hear it. 

“Yeah, well, your intentions don't make a damn difference to me. In life, you make choices and you have to live with them.” She turned to TK, turning her back on her father, because she refused to give him the last word. “Come on, Kennedy, why don’t you show me all the bells and whistles of this place. Mom would love to hear that we worked on this together.” 

TK laughed at the childhood nickname. Lydia, being a contrarian even as a little kid, refused to call her brother by TK or even Tyler. She’d claimed she wanted to call him something special. At first, she hadn’t been able to say Kennedy very well, and it usually came out as Kenny or Kendy, but by the time TK was up and running around, she had perfected the name, like she did anything she set her mind to. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“You hate when I call you that in front of your friends,” she corrected. She wasn’t as close to her brother since her dad had dragged him away to Texas, but she still knew him. She knew parts of him no one else probably would, and he knew parts of her too. They didn’t always understand each other, but they’d always been close.

TK showed Lydia around the firehouse, and she had to admit that it was a well-designed firehouse. She might’ve done it a little differently, but it was a good balance of style and functionality. A lot of firehouses that she’d seen were stuffy and old, but Owen had never allowed that for his firehouses. He wanted them to be light and airy, only the best for his firefighters because they were his family and he wanted them to feel at home. 

That persistent knot of anger twisted in Lydia’s stomach at the thought that Owen had always kept his work space spotless, using all of his energy there, and putting none of that precision into his home life. It was amazing how a person could be two different people based on the space he was in. The firefighters probably saw him as someone they could turn to, someone who would listen with a wise ear, and even TK probably knew what having a dad was like now while Lydia still felt like a left behind little girl, no matter how much she tried not to feel that way. She had her mother, she always reminded herself, and that would just have to be good enough.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” TK asked with a proud grin. Lydia nodded distractedly. The firehouse was not only magnificently designed, but it was well kept. The surfaces were clean and polished, very few smudges interfering with the lines. The materials had been chosen well. They were both sleek and easy to maintain. In another life, one Lydia might have liked better, Owen could have been an interior designer. Lydia’s sure he had plenty of help from actual professionals, but the little details, the smart touches, Lydia attributed to her dad. When he had a vision, he made it happen. Everyone else was just along for the ride. 

“Yeah, cool,” Lydia tried to build some enthusiasm, but her mind was still being torn back to places she’d rather it not go. She’d learned how to detach herself from those feelings and reduce them to a dull throb in the pit of her stomach, but one foot into the firehouse, and she felt submerged in her grudges. She and her father were alike in that way, they were alike in a lot of ways. They held onto things and never let them go. Owen wasn’t as grudgeful, but he could be unmovable. Though, at one point, Lydia had him wrapped around her little finger. She’d been daddy’s little girl, and he’d indulged her whims, which had often been displeasing to her mother, but back then, her mom would laugh it off and found the doting endearing even if she didn’t approve of the way Owen always let Lydia have her way. Then, he stopped hearing her wants, and Lydia’s mom began to get angry about Owen’s lack of attention. She didn’t just laugh it off then.

“Are you okay?” TK asked, and that was a loaded question. For the most part, she was okay. Her career was going well. She had a nice apartment back in New York. She had a great relationship with her mom. Her life was falling into place, but she felt unsettled, not just here in the firehouse but everywhere. There was constantly the sense of unfinished business looming over her, and logically, she knew what it was. There was only one person on Earth who still had the power to make her emotions spiral with just one thought.

Lydia forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m great. It’s just...weird being here.”

“Because of Dad?” Lydia hated how soft his voice was, making her feel guilty and sad for the sorrows he’s had to carry. Ever since TK was born, she’d been extra gentle with him. One of her first memories was of holding him. He’d been so little then. He hadn’t outgrown her yet. She’d been sitting on the rocking chair in the nursery, and she’d felt his little fingers gently clutching her shirt. Her mom had told her to be careful with her brother, and she treated baby TK with the same level of care she treated her porcelain, child’s tea set that Owen had bought. TK had felt so delicate, and she promised herself then that she would do whatever she could to protect him. 

Lydia had always been protective of the things she cherished, another way she was like Owen. She had once kept a cookie for three days because it had been so beautifully decorated that she couldn’t stand to eat it. Her mom had made her throw it out, and Lydia had sobbed at the loss. The feeling of losing that cookie stuck with her as silly as it was. It reared up when her grandfather had died, on 9/11, when her first boyfriend broke up with her, and many times after that. She wanted to make sure her brother never had that feeling, but of course, she couldn’t control loss. Too often, it just happened without any reason. 

Still, she did her best to protect TK, and the last thing she wanted was to put her brother in the middle of her grudge with Owen. She wasn’t angry that TK still had a relationship with their father. She thought it was dangerous and that he might get hurt, but she was careful with what she said to TK. She tried to keep her bitterness from poisoning him as well, but when it came to family, there was only so much she could keep him out of. Family issues were all-consuming, and the dysfunction could be felt in ripples for years after the initial trigger.

“Not just ‘cuz of Dad.” Lydia said finally, figuring after everything TK had been through in the past few months that honesty was probably the best policy. “I guess I’m just so used to you being a subway ride away, that having to come all this way just to see you is--” 

“Weird?” 

She sighed and rocked back on her heels, something she definitely shouldn’t be doing in expensive boots, but Oliver wasn’t there to yell at her so she enjoyed the rebellion. “Yeah, weird. Even though that doesn’t even begin to cover it.” 

TK nodded, pulling her into a one armed hug, letting her hide in the hood of his sweatshirt for a moment. “Trust me, I’m still getting used to all of it too.” He confessed as they made their way over to the kitchen, away from the sharp ears of the team as they readied for the day ahead.

“I still don’t get why you came all the way to Texas,” Lydia replied, trying to keep her tone light. She didn’t want to sound angry, even though she felt bitterness burrowing deeper in the pit of her stomach Each passing moment in Texas, she felt the urge to run away, and every time she saw the new life that her dad had made, she thought of the one he’d left behind. She was once part of his life, but she’d become an outsider. Since 9/11 Owen only seemed to open his heart to firefighters. It wasn’t fair that her dad got TK. Owen had just dragged her brother from New York, and TK had gone without question because he had a relationship with their dad that Lydia could never have. She hated that she was so acrimonious. It made her feel like a cookie left outside for the sun to harden as the ants and animals ate away at her. She was trying to be happy for her brother, and if Austin, Texas is what he needed to get better, she’d support it, but as hard as she tried to understand, TK’s relationship with Owen left her mouth dry and tasting like copper.

“We needed a change.” Change was never something that came easily for Lydia. For her, change had never meant that something good was happening or about to happen. Like when her mom had taken time off work when she was little, only for her and Owen to sit her and TK down to explain that their mother had breast cancer. For some people, change was an adventure, but for Lydia, it felt like the beginning of the end. She liked routines. When she got up each morning, she always went for a run to get her blood pumping before getting ready for her day. She always had black coffee with a packet of Stevia, and she liked lavender tea before bed. She always had the same foods and used the same brands. 

At one point her therapist had been worried she’d been developing OCD, and it had taken more than a couple of heated sessions to convince him otherwise. But it wasn’t that Lydia didn’t like trying new things, after all, she couldn’t exactly not try new innovations when it came to design and architecture, or avoid them when her mother assigned her to a story for the express purpose of getting her out of her comfort zone. 

“Moving to Staten Island is a change. Moving to Texas is crazy.”

TK laughed. “Lyds, it’s not that bad here. I think you’d like it here. It’s a little crazy, but I think if I give it time, it could be home.” The words felt like a knife in Lydia’s lungs, and she struggled to get words out. It felt like a betrayal that TK would find a home somewhere so far away. He’d barely been in Texas, and he already seemed anchored to it. She’d been secretly hoping that he’d come to his senses and come home. TK became enamored t00 quickly for Lydia’s liking. He’d been like that with Alex too. After two days, TK had told Lydia that he thought Alex was the one. TK let himself dive into situations with everything he had. In the process, he got hurt and spiraled. If Lydia got hurt, she spiraled too, but unlike TK, she’d taught herself to stop getting hurt.

It was easier that way, after all; to pretend that nothing got to her when in reality everything got to her in one way or another. Her mother said that was what made her a good journalist, that she allowed herself to feel empathy for the subjects of her stories. In Lydia’s opinion, it just meant she was weak-- incapable of detaching the personal from the professional. Owen was good at that. He’d demonstrated so time and time again when he’d simply checked-outed on her and TK and their mom. First, when Jacqueline had gotten sick and then again after 9/11. He’d made it look so easy, almost effortless. If Lydia was honest with herself, she envied that part of her father. 

“Lyds?” TK prodded gently, staring at his sister with those earnest eyes of his. “You okay?” He asked, glancing down briefly at his watch. 

Lydia nodded hurriedly, forcing a smile as she shook her hair over her shoulder. “I’m good.” She half-lied, not wanting to bring down her brother’s mood. “Just jetlagged. You’d think one hour wouldn’t make a difference, but tell that to my brain.”

“Sure…” TK murmured, clearly unconvinced but not willing to push his sister further. The last thing he wanted was to start arguing with Lydia. If she wanted to talk, then she’d come to him; he’d learned that by now. When she felt pressure to talk, she never wanted to talk (even if part of her desperately needed to). She closed herself off, put on a smile, and hoped that she could fool people for just a little longer.

With all the fear clogging her mind, Lydia didn’t know how to be an open book, but she wanted someone to open her up and see what was inside. When she was in her apartment, alone at three in the morning, she imagined how it would feel to be truly known. She hid so much of herself without consciously trying that there was always an uncomfortable twist of deception in her tongue. It was why she’d dyed her hair red the first time, and it was why she used banter and words like, “I’m good,” to make it seem like she had everything under control. Lydia felt like the first draft of a story, scrawled hastily in smudged ink with too little grammar to keep the unruly ideas in check. She pretended she was the glossy final copy, glistening in the finished magazine, full of curated works that no one knew when they were messy first drafts. 

Lydia opened her mouth to fill the lull in the conversation, but before she could say anything, an alarm blared, startling her as red lights flashed and the 126 jumped into action. She watched as TK stripped off his sweatshirt, flinging it at her haphazardly. 

**[Station 126 - all vehicles respond to Hastings Farm; report of a man stuck in a corn silo and sinking fast.]**

Her gaze darted between the members of the 126 as they all rushed to get into their turnout gear, shoving feet into boots and pulling suspenders over shoulders. “Hey!” She snapped her gaze over as TK called her name, her brother already had on his coat, helmet held loosely in his hand. “Wanna ride along?” 

“I don’t think Dad--” Lydia cut herself off.  _ What did she care what their dad thought? _ “Sure!” She shouted over the din of the alarm, slinging her bag over her shoulder and accepting the hand TK offered to help her onto the rig. “Maybe I can get some real-world evidence for my article.”

“Just leave the dangerous stuff to those of us,” TK warned, but his voice was still light. Lydia was known for getting herself into situations that put her at risk. TK liked to joke that Lydia could turn a story about balance in kindergarten classrooms into a sordid exposé rife with peril. She had an affinity for walking into glamorous stories only to run straight into the grit.

“I won’t do anything that you wouldn’t do,” she winked, and it was hard to say which one of them deserved the middle name “trouble,” more. 

Judd groaned, fixing the siblings with a look. “That’s just great, now there’s two of you.” He muttered, much to TK’s amusement as the engine swung around a turn and began peeling down a long, dirt road. The farm in question was up ahead, its grain silo reflecting the harsh Texan sun like a beacon. 

“How on earth does someone get stuck in a grain silo?” Lydia questioned over the scream of the siren, bracing herself against TK as the engine jolted over the cattle guard. 

“It’s called ‘walking the grain’,” Judd supplied. “Someone goes in and stomps on the grain; it’s a cheap way to clear the drain, but that much grain all in one place becomes like quicksand if you fall in.”

Owen was all business when he said, “I guess you’ve handled some of these, Judd,” which made Lydia feel a rush of relief because at least someone knew enough to keep TK out of too much trouble. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the rest of the team, but she didn’t know them well, and from what she did know, they weren’t qualified to rescue people from silos. Most of them hadn’t even been close enough to spit on a silo let alone know how to rescue someone from one.

“Yeah, we always lose a few people each year to ‘em,” explained Judd, and Lydia’s journalistic mind lit up. Now, that was a story. Architecture and interior design were her passions, but she couldn’t help wandering from her comfort zone when inspiration struck. 

Journalism was one of the few areas in which she welcomed change. She still liked to come out ahead of that change, predicting it before it struck, but she loved the thrill of the chase. The line between victory and defeat was thin like silk strands spun by a spider, but when Lydia weaved her story carefully, she could spin those thin lines to her advantage. Lydia’s adversaries took one look at her, and they thought that she was fragile. They saw a young, driven woman, and they laughed, thinking they were indestructible. What they never seemed to figure out was that spiderwebs could be as strong as steel.

“If he’s already up to his chest, how much time do we have?” Owen asked. He knew when to defer to people who knew better than him. 

“Ten minutes at most, depending on the air pockets. If we take him out too fast, he’ll rip in half.” Lydia withheld curses in four languages that popped into her head. She always said that she didn’t need to be fluent in a language to curse in it.

“It’s corn!” TK’s voice was filled with disbelief.

“And it weighs 1,200 pounds per cubic yard, which is like stacking four refrigerators on each part of your body.” The whole situation didn’t feel like it could be real. Lydia had followed countless stories in her career, and while many had been strange, none had been quite this strange.

“Here’s the deal. Judd, you’re gonna run the call when we get there.” Owen’s voice was clear and authoritative, a far cry from the man who had played tea party with Lydia, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was always serious about his job, but she’d never seen that part of him until after 9/11. “All right everybody? Do what he says when he tells you to do it.” A round of “Copy that” made its way through the rig as the crew agreed to Owen’s orders. Lydia gave TK a stern look, urging him to take the situation seriously.

Owen glanced at Lydia, his face softening just enough that Lydia felt sentimental but not enough that she felt forgiving. “Lydia, keep your distance,” he said as if he was the boss of her, but she had technically jumped on his firetruck and was in his realm of influence, so she sucked up her pride, but not without letting out a sarcastic, “Copy that.”

TK grinned, clearly enjoying that Lydia now had to “behave herself” because Owen was in charge. “You’re such a little shit.” She grumbled, just loud enough for TK to hear as they came to a stop in front of the silo. 

“Yeah, but you love me for it.” He quipped back, already hanging up his headset and clambering out of the truck, assessing the small crowd gathered. Several people were already filming and he grimaced internally. He never understood people’s need to film accident scenes; to stop and gawk at the tragedy or even potential tragedy that might occur. Although, he was sure Marjan wouldn’t pass up the chance to gain a few thousand more followers on YouTube and Instagram, but even she knew that being filmed was a double-edged sword. On one hand, if the call went well and they saved the victim, then the positive press was great. On the other hand, if the victim died or if the team was caught on video screwing up, then the footage could be used for much less positive purposes like tearing down Owen’s ability to lead the 126, or twist the facts to skew in favor of not having women in firehouses like some of the oldtimers kept griping about.

The team was quick to action, and Lydia was almost impressed with the unflinching poise Owen had, but she would expect nothing less from her father. He hadn’t had such a prolific career just because he was lucky. She knew how much work he had put into his career, and if she could have separated the firefighter from her father, she would have admired the firefighter. Owen sent them into action, and Lydia stood a distance away, feeling helpless behind her camera. 

Lydia hated not being able to do anything. She had her camera, and she was trying to get shots, but in the face of danger, a camera felt passive. Yet, people remembered pictures. Many pictures of war, protest, and tumult impacted the masses. Lydia knew the power of a picture, but with her little brother going into the silo, taking pictures didn’t feel like doing enough. She wanted to follow him in, making sure he was okay, just like she did when she was in grade school and TK had just started kindergarten. Lydia knew that he was nervous. He’d cried when he got home for the first week, so she would sneak away from her class during recess and traverse to the kindergarten annex to make sure TK was okay. Even then, she’d gotten herself into trouble out of concern for her brother, and she’d do it again without a second thought.

When Lydia loved someone and let them into her life, she would stop at nothing to make sure they were okay. At times, she could interfere too much. She knew that when she got scared for someone, she could be so desperate to do something that she overstepped boundaries and gave people help they didn’t want or need, but staying still wasn’t an option. That’s why she always had her camera with her; capturing stills meant she was always in motion.

Judd warned the team that if they took one wrong step, the whole operation could go wrong, and Lydia felt her gut twist in apprehension. She wasn’t used to watching people she knew throw themselves into danger. She’d only just met the rest of the team, but TK had told her enough that she was nervous for them too. Her father was safely on the ground, but if he was in there, she’d even be nervous for him because even the most bitter part of her didn’t want him to suffer.

Lydia bounced on her feet as the 126 worked, and it made her itchy that she couldn’t figure out what was happening. She was used to the pressure of a deadline, but this kind of pressure was life or death, and there was nothing she could do to change the result. She couldn’t hear or see what was happening inside and could only faintly hear Judd updating Owen about the progress they were making, and the report back had only reported progress itself and not how much. Judd seemingly had things under control, but it was a delicate rescue by the sounds of it, and she hated leaving things to chance. 

She let herself take a breath, and just a moment later, she heard Judd shouting from the radio that they were going down. The words bounced around in her head like a ball in a pinball machine before settling in her gut as a somber realization. Something had gone dreadfully wrong, and Lydia felt her heart lodge itself in her chest as she wondered if something had gone wrong with her trouble magnet brother. Her feelings intensified when she heard TK’s name and then Marjan’s.

“Do something,” she shouted at Owen before she could think better of it, but her voice sounded tinny and muffled like it was underwater. She wasn’t sure Owen heard her until she saw him turn around for just a second.

In the single glance he gave Lydia, Owen shot her a look that said, “Stay out of it,” and without further hesitation, he flew into action, not needing her input or wasting the time to verbally respond. Just that one time, Lydia didn’t begrudge him for ignoring her; as long as he did something to save TK, she didn’t care if he ever said anything to her ever again.

Lydia watched, squeezing her palms together, as Owen grabbed a saw and hurried to help some of the other firefighters that were still on the ground trying to open up the silo. They weren’t working fast enough, she thought. Lydia could feel the seconds counting down like the last seconds before the potential disaster were pulled impossibly long like saltwater taffy.

Time ticked down to a near-halt, and the world seemed slower even though so much was happening at once. Lydia’s body felt lethargic and heavy as she watched the saws spinning angrily, giant sparks flying through the air as the blades hit the metal of the silo. She felt the vibrations shaking her core, and if they went on much longer, she would fall over. The saws were blaring and the crew was yelling orders back and forth, but Lydia couldn’t make out anything over the pounding of her pulse slamming in her ears. 

Lydia held her breath, frozen in place. Her heels felt like they had been wedged into the ground, and she watched in silent horror as the silo split open, the kernels of corn pouring out of the crack like an avalanche. Her brother was nowhere in sight. The corn continued to spill out in a dreadful wave, and its intensity made Lydia feel sick to her stomach as she searched for any sign of life but found none. With a familiar fear snaking through her voice, she heard herself yell, “TK!” over the pounding in her ears, but the response was a startling silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love <3


End file.
